


though infinite, can never meet

by hexereii



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Infamous Iron Man (Comics)
Genre: (but not for each other exactly), Awkward Conversations, Emotional Baggage, Feelings Realization, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, and victor is a hero (ish), he's a villain, role reversal (kinda), this reed is not the 616 reed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexereii/pseuds/hexereii
Summary: Set in the Marvel Two-In-One period where Johnny, Ben, and Victor are out looking for Reed and his family--this would be somewhere either in the midst of all that, or toward the end when Victor & Dr Rachna got separated from Johnny & Ben--either way works.Intentionally parallels Reed's experience in that title with the alt-earth version of Doom that he was clearly quite close to. The one who asked him not to give up on his own Victor. (Can't recommend that issue enough, btw--it's #11)In this fic, it's an alternate version of Reed that Victor has found and... unfortunately... resonates with.
Relationships: Reed Richards/Victor von Doom
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: DoomReed Week 2020





	though infinite, can never meet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DoomReed Week 2020, theme was Uno Reverse Card

Ironic that he'd gone through so much just to _find_ this man, first in the eight long years on Battleworld and then later, back in his reconstituted home universe, despite the inner certainty that it was hopeless and Reed was dead... Victor had never given up, not fully. After all, Reed had never given up on _him_ \--and given that, how could he do any less for someone who had made his new life possible?

He couldn't possibly have foreseen any future that included this fight, though: being hunted across the rooftops of his own castle by a version of Reed dressed in very familiar armor, flanked by robotic duplicates, how could he ever have imagined that?

And now, staring across the broken ramparts at the too-thin, too-familiar figure hovering opposite him, Doom wondered if perhaps he'd gone too far; absent Ben and Johnny, separated from Dr Rachna and her multisect, even, he was cornered with no backup, no way of even teleporting away until he could rest and recover the strength his magic required. He didn't even have a _plan,_ for once; there was some doubt as to whether his weaponry would be sufficient to counter it, if this Reed attacked again.

(Looking at the armor more closely, Victor could tell modifications had been made--though the possibility existed that it had _always_ been his on this world, the personalization a part of its original design. His mask, at least, retained the familiar shape and shared the same basic utility as Victor's own in covering old wounds--he could see the thick web of scar tissue around one milky eye, the pupil of which was no more than a pinpoint of grey. Impact damage, almost certainly, complicated by some sort of chemical burn.)

"Interesting." Reed's voice, reverberating and amplified by technology Doom had also used. The resulting mixture made his skin prickle with goosebumps, but the thin figure didn't seem to notice his hesitation. "I thought the Council had destroyed all the Dooms--I certainly never imagined one would be so foolish as to turn up _here_. Guess you really can't predict the kind of arrogance and stupidity you lot are consumed by."

The armor's sensors, Victor knew, would have told this man _precisely_ who he was, even with the over-layer of Stark Tech; if he'd ever had any hope of disguising himself, it was long gone by now.

Lowering his arms and depowering the canons in each palm, Doom hesitated for a half-second more... then retracted the faceplate of his suit to study his opponent more clearly.

"Hello, Reed."

Something near one eye quirked, behind the mask--a faint smile, possibly.

"Victor," the man nodded. "You're looking well--but then, you always did. Certainly better than a man who's been dead for ten years _should_ look. What brings you to New Latveria this time of year?"

Letting the rest of the armor fold away, Victor buttoned his suit coat and adjusted his cuffs, as casually as he could.

"Nostalgia," he said breezily.

Richards raised his brows at that.

"Interesting," he said again. "You are clearly _not_ the Von Doom I once knew, then. He would have no reason to feel particularly... _nostalgic_ for his old friend from school. Granted, it likely doesn't help that I took over his country and murdered his teammates in front of him _-_ -"

Victor kept his expression neutral; he couldn't well imagine the hatred this creature had generated from his alternate version, what he didn't know so far was... why. Why did it seem that they were forever fated to animosity and violence? This wasn't the only world he'd encountered where Reed was the villain of the piece, just one of the more extreme examples--it didn't seem to matter which of them stood on what side of morality or the law, the other would naturally be drawn to oppose.

"Indeed, I am not. My world designation was Earth-616. My own Reed Richards died rebuilding a universe torn apart by multiversal 'incursions.' Without his sacrifice, we would not be having this conversation now."

Bristling a little at the sudden defensiveness he felt, faced with this ghoulish shadow of a man Victor had variously envied and admired, it was difficult not to give in to the emotion completely and launch an attack.

Reed, for his part, seemed to find the whole thing funny.

"Wait, wait--you're... what, taking a tour of your long-lost bestie's creation because you miss him that much? Oh, Victor. I always knew you were a sap but this is a whole new level..."

"I'm here because I don't believe that he's dead." Victor said curtly. "I believe my memory has been tampered with--to what end I cannot guess--and the Reed Richards I knew is still alive, somewhere in the multiverse."

A pitying look from the masked figure at that.

"You poor fool," he murmured. "You always did underestimate us. To your own detriment, every single time."

One armored hand had extended while Victor spoke, and now cupped his cheek lightly.

"You must miss him terribly. I may have launched my own Victor von Doom into the sun, but... I miss him too. Every day. The universe is such a dreadful, lonely place without the other half of your soul."

It was everything Victor could do not to recoil.

(It was everything he could do not to grab that hand and press it closer, too, just to feel it on his skin.)

"I do not believe that a soul as twisted as yours can possibly resonate with mine--in this or any other universe."

Reed let go, but simultaneously stepped closer.

"Then you would be wrong. Or--is that _projection_ I hear? I'm wearing your suit, after all--is this what you think of yourself? Is this what you tell yourself is the reason why _your_ Reed never showed any interest?"

Stunned, Von Doom couldn't quite summon the words to respond. His armor slid free of the microscopic casings in his own cells, enclosing him securely. He didn't even exhale until the faceplate clicked into place again.

Reed, of course, laughed again at that.

"You remind me of him," he announced, throwing an arm around Victor's shoulders in a grand act of camaraderie. "Maybe all Dooms have the same issues with repression, I don't know, but you really are quite similar. Join me for a drink?"

Against his better judgment, Victor found himself agreeing--fully aware that the man would probably try to kill him before the evening was over but too desperate for the sound of that familiar voice, even distorted as it was by the mask--to refuse.

* * *

It was only after they'd settled in near the fire in what Victor immediately recognized as his own private study that the armor retracted again. The two sat, chairs facing each other, as Victor toyed with his wine glass and considered whether or not it might be poisoned.

Ultimately, he decided to risk it and took the first sip--it wasn't a vintage he recognized, but that was only to be expected.

"I have a theory about us," Reed shared, pausing to remove his mask and gloves while Victor openly stared--unable to do otherwise--at the damage to his face. He'd seen a similar pattern of scarring on another version of his old friend, the Reed of Earth-1610, but that one was far too unstable to sit with. This one may be murderous and clearly, he was quite insane, but there was a stillness to him that reminded Victor very much of the man he knew.

Gulping slightly more of his drink than he'd intended, Von Doom gestured for Reed to continue with what he was saying.

"Let's hear it, then," he said, eventually.

"Well--magnetics. Opposing poles connect, likes repel. We are too similar to connect easily, so we cast ourselves into roles opposite one another to provide enough _dissimilarity_ to offset the natural repulsive force."

Brows raising, Victor turned the wine glass in his fingers and _thought_. It wasn't actually a bad theory, in the abstract. And yet...

"Clearly we cannot offset it enough."

Silence descended, the only sound in the room coming from the occasional crackle of fire or _ting_ of their glasses being handled.

"Why did you kill him?" Victor finally asked, and suddenly it was Reed's turn to squirm uncomfortably.

"He... I wasn't... it was, ah..." Blinking rapidly, Reed turned his attention to the fireplace, one dark brown eye catching the light in flickering patterns while the other, colorless eye seemed to reflect nothing at all.

"Because he chose them. He chose his team, his 'family,' over me. I thought that once they were dead, he'd come around... but he never did. He rejected me to the very end."

Doom nodded slowly. Little as he liked to admit it, he had followed a similar path with the Mister Fantastic of his world and knew exactly how poisonous that sense of betrayal could be. That it was rooted in several different kinds of delusion did nothing to mitigate the pain from it.

"You must have loved him very deeply," he said, surprised by the gentleness in his own voice. "Pity he could not recognize that."

Looking up at this Reed--so much more like himself, truly, than the man whose name and likeness he shared--Victor was instantly aware of how the atmosphere between them had changed with his words. How near they were sitting, and how the look in that one untouched eye was simultaneously familiar and new.

His heart was racing as he let Reed pull the glass from his hands and tilted his head back, initially offering nothing at all to the kiss he already knew would follow, but then there was a sensation as though some kind of barrier inside his own chest were breaking down and suddenly he was pulling Reed down, kissing him as if he might die without it.

They both pulled back at the exact same moment, Reed closing his eyes to dwell on some unknown inner turmoil while Victor could only regret.

It was an excellent kiss; he'd been waiting half his life to give it, but it did not belong to the man sitting across from him now, and they both seemed to know it.

"Will I be allowed to leave?" He asked softly. Reed nodded, but didn't look up until Victor's hand was on the doorknob.

"Victor? I hope you find him. I hope you can find some way of breaking this polarized stalemate of ours."

Inwardly, Victor hoped so too. Outwardly: "We both know how unlikely that is... but thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from an old poem i vaguely remember from school


End file.
